


rowboat (against a darkened sky)

by deerly (bsafemydeers)



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-06
Updated: 2010-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-13 13:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bsafemydeers/pseuds/deerly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a lot for a former prisoner of war to think about, but Luna finds her mind turning to a friend instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rowboat (against a darkened sky)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Smutty Claus 2008.

No one ever asked her what it was like to be a prisoner of war.

Though Luna often volunteered many things people didn’t ask about, she didn’t talk about it either. They couldn’t know what it was like, and people never came to her for such serious words. People came to Luna for levity, to sit in her light and feel a little less crazy. Oh, and there were the others there. They knew. She’d often sat by Ollivander’s bedside, waiting for something she couldn’t quite place.

No, not entirely true.

Harry had asked her early on, his shoulders bowed with guilt. “It wasn’t worse than dying, Harry,” she’d said, frowning at how thin and white her own hand seemed against his dark hair. That had led to her only other surprise on the subject. Much later, as they stood at the edge of the forest, Neville had stood so close that she could feel the warmth of his shoulder, a square and awkward brushed, against hers.

“You lied to Harry,” he said quietly. She looked up at him. The honesty of his features had finally grown into the patience and bravery of his adulthood. “When you said it wasn’t worse than dying.”

“How do you figure?” she asked.

“Because,” he said. “You didn’t get to see your mother.”

How strange it was that she was set on fire by that. It was a morbid conversation by anyone’s standards, and he didn’t even touch her. The night was cool and damp, and his insistence that she wear shoes and a scarf was hardly lusty. How could anyone lust for her? She’d turned into a small and pale creature, too gaunt for her own liking.

But since that night-- maybe it was the way he dropped her off at the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, reaching out and tightening her scarf even though there were inside, and oh, that meant he’d touched her after all-- Luna was in an absolute fever for him. For Neville! She loved all of her friends, perhaps a little bit more than necessary. This lust was _new_ , though.

She’d never had any indication that anyone thought of her as a sexual being. Luna would have agreed with them, up until the cool tips of his fingers brushed a small, hot triangle of her neck as he adjusted her scarf. Then his mouth had turned up at the corners, and he’d said, “Goodnight, Luna.”

How could she have thought he’d never touched her? Now that it was in her head, she thought of a million times their arms had brushed or hips had bumped when she’d not minded his space, or that singular time he had pushed the hair from her eyes. His hands, large and those long fingers wrapping around her arms, how they would feel sliding up the inside of her thigh....

It was this way that she ended up on her back, floating in the lake. There would still be a few weeks before she could return home, because she couldn’t bring herself to leave school. The place needed her, or at least she liked to think it did. Her father came to visit when he could, yes, but at Luna’s request, he’d reluctantly left her at Hogwarts.

Her school robes were too big these days, but they were all the better for a good float. They billowed up around her in dark clouds, the air bubbling up in her sleeves. Cool water was the literary choice of all would-be lovers, and Luna liked to think that she was a would-be too. A would-be of many thing, but this was the one she craved.

For some reason, likely fear of the giant squid or of the (perfectly delightful) merpeople, most of her friends preferred not to know Luna swam in the lake. Preferred, in this case, meant that Luna kept the information to herself so as not to worry them. Like her captivity, it was simply not something anyone needed to know about. The thought of trying to tell Ginny about how a good float in cold water helped her to keep from assaulting poor Neville in the halls was amusing, but always ended in imagined horror.

A cloud passed over the sun and Luna raised an arm over her head in kind. She thought she could hear the cutting of a rowboat through the water. Either someone was fishing or she’d been found out.

“Luna!”

The latter, it appeared. Only the blink of an eyelid later and she put the voice to a person. How in the world had he tracked her here?

“Luna, you’ll catch cold if you... are you wearing your _robes_? I can’t believe you haven’t drowned!” Neville, Hero of the Battle of Hogwarts, was looking down at her with more than a little concern.

“Where did you find a rowboat? Did you need to hijack it? And did you row it yourself?”

His hand extended to her, and she didn’t move. “Come on,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you for nearly an hour, and my arms are tired. If you really want to swim out here, let me get some gillyweed and we’ll come out and do it properly.”

“I am floating, not swimming,” she said. “Though if you’d really like me to get in the boat with you, I suspect I’ll need to do the latter as well.” And to what she presumed must be his horror, she squirmed in a way that would dislodge her from the surface of the water. Oh, and from her robes as well.

When she splashed back to the surface, the robes beginning to float further and further away, she was only in a slip of a dress that was also a slip. “Alright,” she said, “you can help now.” Luna suspected that she could do it herself without even tipping the boat over, but that would keep him from touching her in all the places that help would offer. What a sexual predator she was becoming, a veritable Pansy Parkinson. Though without the fantastic tits, which was truly a shame.

Luna was not disappointed, because before she really knew it, she was practically in his lap, dripping cold water all over his worn-out uniform and wishing (though not really) that she had worn some undergarments.

He appeared to be manfully ignoring the way her nipples peaked against her wet chemise. “Uh. Luna, what are you doing out here?”

“Oh,” she said, “I don’t think that’s something I can answer.”

Neville’s eyes continued to search for some safe haven. She couldn’t help noticing the way he made no attempt, however, to put some distance where their hips were snug together. “You can’t? You can’t tell me why you were swimming, in all your clothes, in water cold enough to turn your lips blue?”

“It’s not that cold, is it?”

“You’re shaking.”

“Not because I’m cold,” she said truthfully.

He did look at her then, bewildered.

“You see, Neville, I’ve got a terrible problem.”

She was gratified to see the stormy look come over his face, feel his arms tighten around her waist. “Someone nicking your things again? You’d think after a _war_ they would learn--”

“No,” she said, placing her palms on either side of his neck. “The problem is that I want something terribly. I’ve come out here to think. Did you know that cold water is universally accepted as a cure for unrequited lust?”

Neville had turned from stormy to embarrassed looking in only seconds. She liked seeing how pink his nose turned. “Luna, I don’t think we should talk about this.”

Her stomach flipped over, and she asked plaintively, “Why not?”

“Because,” he said, “I don’t like having things dangled in front of me that I can’t have. Never have liked it, anyway, and you know, you might as well be naked, and you’re wet, and you’re in my _lap_.”

Only a few moments later, Luna realised she could feel exactly why he was so uncomfortable. His discomfort was growing against her thigh, in fact. “I think that’s a perfect reason to talk about it.”

“ _Luna_ \--” he groaned, and the way his eyes flashed, she saw how he’d been as he pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat and it all sped up until she realized she had her fingers in his hair and her tongue in his mouth.

But her efforts to disentangle herself were not working, and were in fact prevented by him easing her legs around his hips. “That’s just not helpful,” she finally muttered against his mouth.

“I thought you were talking about someone else,” Neville answered, sounding amazed. “I thought... I don’t know who I thought it might be, but people don’t usually want me. Girls, I mean. I’m not supposed to be....”

“I came out here so I wouldn’t try to fuck you on the staircase,” Luna said. “I don’t think it’s working.” She was cold, but it had no effect on the way her heart was racing or the heat pooling between her legs. Desire was turning out to be more potent than Veritaserum. “It’s not just the sex, Neville. I think that you could make it so that I can sleep in the dark again. But there’s also a lot that’s... about the sex.”

Then his tongue was in _her_ mouth, and his fingers were hot against her cold skin as they raked up her ribcage, up under her dress. Suddenly her decision to wear no bra or knickers was right again, especially as he cupped her breasts, warming them. The hardness of her nipples was no longer a result of swimming.

“Tell me,” she said suddenly, surprised to hear her own voice, “that the next time I will get to undress you.”

Neville smiled against her shoulder. “If that’s what you want, yes.”

There were a lot of things she wanted, but she could see now that the joy of it was in knowing she could have them all, one or two at a time. “But for now, I’d like to be out of these wet clothes.”

The rowboat tipped dangerously, but Neville left the dress in a small, wet pile behind him. Though the touching of all her bare skin was terribly distracting, Luna did wonder if they shouldn’t row a bit more towards shore--

\--and then he was tonguing her right nipple and she had never known that he had such talent there, nor that he would be so brave as to be out in the middle of the lake, but he _was_ a Gryffindor through and through. “If you’re not careful, we’ll tip,” she said. “Lie down on your back.”

“I don’t think that will work,” he said, looking up with delightfully mussed hair.

“Row to shore,” she said, “and let me get my wand from my robes.” With one finger that no longer seemed so white or thin, she pointed towards a bit of a shady area. It was a pleasure to watch him row there, knowing how solid his arms were. It was also a pleasure to lean over the side of the boat to fetch her things from the water, hearing his intake of breath at seeing all of her.

But when he tried to row the boat ashore, Luna stopped him, transfiguring the long, weeping branches of the willow on the bank into a curtain around them. She crept forward and knelt between his legs, fascinated by the hardness pulsating under his trousers. “Luna,” he said, sounding unsure but _wanting_. “Are you--”

“Shhh,” she said. “You’ll have to be quiet and still. Do you think you can?”

“This is hardly the traditional first time,” Neville sputtered as she began to unfasten his pants.

“Did you think I would be traditional?” Luna smiled and eased his pants down enough to see the white cotton of his shorts. His erection was more defined, pressing and chafing under the cloth. She leaned forward and pressed her open mouth against the length of it, exhaling hot, moist breath. When he jerked a little bit, the boat rocked, and she looked up at him, seeing her own silvery eyes reflected in his gaze. “I told you,” she said without any accusation.

“Right,” he said, steeling himself. Luna returned to nuzzling his trapped cock, finally rolling down the waistband of his shorts until the pink head appeared, dewy with precum. Kittenlike, she dipped her tongue in the small indentation and was rewarded with a strangled sound. She pursed her lips forward until they covered the tip of his cock, where she just barely sucked until she could feel his thighs shaking.

“Lie down now,” she said, and knew he was in the palm of her hand. It was much easier to get his trousers and everything else down to his knees from there, and she settled on top of him. Though the head of his cock begged to press inside of her, Luna would not allow it. It felt to good to simply rub and stroke him against the slick folds of her cunt. Cunt was a deliciously naughty word that worked perfectly. She would have to teach him all about saying it in just the right way. She was so wet there, but such a different wet than the water; she was warm, for one, and the sliding was so much easier, made it so much easier to buck her hips forward and grind her clit along his shaft.

Luna realised her eyes had been closed for a while, and when she opened them, she was gratified to see Neville biting his lip, his fingers curling and uncurling. “Does that mean you’re quite ready now?”

He didn’t dare to speak, but nodded, and so she found herself, pushing his hands up above his head, leaning forward. She felt a sudden flare of pleasure and looked down to see his lips hungrily fastened at her nipple. “Oh, yes,” she said quietly. “Please... please do that.”

But there were some other pressing matters at hand, and they had to do with the sticky, throbbing mess between them. Luna continued to squirm atop him until she felt the pop of his cock finding the entrance to her cunt. Using his pinned hands as leverage, she pushed down and felt him push back up until it was all the way in, and any sting was swallowed up by the hot knowledge that she had him _inside of her._

By now he was breathing in shallow pants, and she rocked forward and back only the tiniest bit. “We don’t want to tip,” she reminded him. “So you must stay still.”

Of course, the way he was looking at her brought her to believe she could have told him anything at that moment and been allowed to have it. As she found a small, miniscule rhythm that would not tip them over but still allowed her to milk him, and still allowed him to stroke at that lovely spot inside, which felt like it was swelling and becoming more sensitive with each second, she gave a tiny, involuntary squeeze.

Neville yelped softly, and pushed his face forward into her breasts, kissing and suckling as he kept his hips as still as they would be. She pushed herself flatter to him, knees astride and spreading herself so that he might be deeper, so that she could have the added bolt of nudging her clit against his pelvis.

He was whispering, then, softly, something about his first time and that he would not be able to stop and she should know. Ravenclaw though she was, it took several long, lovely seconds for the message to sink in, and she slid back off of him as he exploded wetly on her stomach, thighs spasming. “You didn’t--” he gasped, and she whispered to him that he could fix that, and then she was surprised to find herself on her back, the boat rocking wildly as he sucked and lapped at her cunt. Luna knew he would be tasting the both of them there together, and as her heels scraped up his back, she let her hips undulate against his tongue, over and over until her orgasm tore through her and left only panting and sweating.

Neville lay beside her and she curled up against him. They were both wet with lakewater and sex, though she wasn’t the slightest bit cold. He kissed her lips, and she wondered if they were still blue. Probably not, because he would have insisted they go inside.

“It’s getting dark,” he said instead. She heard the warning and the concern in his voice, and she smiled.

“Oh, that’s alright. I can handle the dark.”


End file.
